Magic of Worlds (The Guardians Series Book 3)

by Lexi Ostrow

  She tensed, uncertain if she should respond or ignore it based on his desire to keep the past in the past. “Were you there to help her?” She put her spoon down and placed her hand over his on the table, not caring what it looked like.

  Alcott lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she felt her heart beat faster in her chest. It was as if he could reduce her to feeling either like a young girl in love for the first time or a woman barely concealing her lust with a single glance.

  Goddess! She thought the moment she realized she was confusing an attraction for an actual connection, and after only two freaking days.

  “I was there for her. I mattered at that point.” He looked away from her, his gaze lingering on the pedestrian mall just beyond them. “I was enough then.”

  Kellie felt as if someone had reached inside her chest and squeezed her heart, wringing out anything positive and leaving only pain behind. She swallowed deeply, trying to process just how difficult things must have been for Alcott. There was an overwhelming desire to tell him he was enough for her; that he mattered. But she couldn’t do that, she hardly understood what she was up against herself. Her throat felt dry, and even as she tried to open her mouth to just say something, she realized she couldn’t. The sudden glimpse into his past was more than she’d been expecting. More than she was ready for it would seem.

  “The past is the past,” Alcott said abruptly, jerking his attention from the park back to her. “It’s a shame I can’t eat anything without starting a ghost hunt.” He tried to smile at her — a forced quiver of the lip that left much to be desired.

  “You don’t like talking about your past because you feel like you failed previously.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t quite a definitive statement either. She was treading carefully, hoping that he wouldn’t react as he had in the last few days.

  His brow quickly turned into a straight line, his mouth mimicking the shape. “I did fail. I was not a strong enough Guardian for my Word Speaker. She survives, and I am assured she is rather happy, but I was not enough. You might not be able to understand this, but finding out I was nothing more than a construct on a paper wasn’t impossible to believe when the evidence was staring at me. That didn’t make it easy to accept. Being her Guardian made me something more. Failing to be what she needed was merely the proof that I couldn’t be more than I was written to be until I decided it was time to make my own rules.”

  The tension coming off Alcott should have been visible sparks, but of course, there was nothing more than a heavy charge of emotional energy lingering in the air around them. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find out everything she thought, knew and did was engineered. It was so science fiction like, but so was everything that had been happening. There was nothing normal about her any longer, and she was just going to have to be as respectful as she could.

  Goddess only knows someone could pop out of thin air one day and tell you that you’re a story in a bigger story. Isn’t that all a prophecy actually is?

  Doing her best not to sigh, she shifted the subject. “Can you tell me a little more? About what all there is to being . . .” She looked around the place and noticed it was steadily gaining a lunch crowd, “in your field.”

  “What could you possibly wish to know?”

  “For starters, did you have a choice? I know I was offered one, is it a two-way street?”

  Alcott screwed his face up as if trying to force himself to remember. “I could not say for certain. I don’t remember being given a choice. But perhaps it was situational due to who my last Word Speaker was.”

  He didn’t embellish, and she wanted to rip her hair out at the small dangling hint of his past. “Well then, at least most things seem fair. When it’s time for your,” she searched for a veiled phrase, “final task, do you want to take it?”

  Alcott smiled then, a small rueful gesture. “I have nothing left in my books. That, and why should I wish to go back to not existing when I could exist in a world such as this? Be my own man, make my own destiny.” There was so much whimsy in his words, it was apparent he desired that possibly more than anything else.

  Involuntarily, she flinched at his words. There was simply no way to wrap her mind around what it was like to be a Guardian. Shit, she couldn’t even really understand what it meant to be a Word Speaker, aside from dangerous. That was when she realized she didn’t even know if he needed basic things.

  “When does your job allow for you to take meal breaks? I’d like to make certain you have them.”

  He smiled at her. “While I cannot affect anything in your world, as I am not real, I can partake in eating and actually need to. As I am essentially trapped here, thanks to an arrangement I made, I will make certain to do so when we are alone. Nothing I touch vanishes, if you were wondering.”

  She felt guilty for having left him on his own in her act of childishness, even if it was well-deserved, given the circumstances of her life. She was about to ask him if he had indeed eaten when she heard someone clear their throat.

  “Mon Cherie, is everything okay?”

  Antoine’s heavy southern drawl always sounded romantic when he slipped in the French phrases of his ancestors, and it pulled her out of the conversation with Alcott.

  She looked up at him quizzically, and he gestured to the plate in front of her.

  “It is not like you not to finish.”

  She flushed, embarrassed that she had made him, or the kitchen staff, feel as if there was something inadequate about the meal. Being a local had the wonderful benefits of really getting to know a lot of the local shop owners, but it also meant they got to know her and would notice if something was strange.

  She pulled her phone away from her ear, but not enough to allow anyone to see that the screen was blank and there was not a call in progress. She didn’t need to seem pathetic or as if she were talking to herself because she was alone or something.

  “I’m sorry. Everything is fine. I just . . . I lost my job earlier this week, and I suppose it’s weighing on me heavier than I realized.” The lie slipped out so easily, she wondered if part of being a Word Speaker was gaining an ability to effortlessly distort the truth to cover up the insanity they were a part of.

  He frowned and nodded. “There is always that bartending job waiting for you. All you have to do is say the word.” He gestured toward the barely eaten meal. “Shall I package it up for you? Perhaps sitting on your balcony and watching the world drift by will help bring you some cheer.”

  Alcott raised a brow at her, obviously curious how someone could know so much about her.

  “I think I’ve had all the bartending I can handle.” She snorted in disgust, thinking about how much she disliked something that should have been entertaining in New Orleans. “As for the food, that would be wonderful. I knew there was a reason this was my favorite spot.”

  With a nod, Antoine picked up her plate and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned the phone to her ear just before Alcott spoke again.

  “You come here often then?”

  “I go to a lot of places here quite often. There is a special kind of life growing up in the Quarter, even if I technically grew up in the Garden District. There isn’t nearly the extent of drugs and danger that the media makes it out to be. Sure, we have as much as the next city, and perhaps a few more bar brawls than Vegas, but overall, it’s a very different thing to live in the French Quarter than to visit it.”

  “I think there is a lot we can learn from one another. You see, this situation is always unfair to a Guardian. A Word Speaker knows us intimately from our stories, yet we know nothing of them.”

  She thought about having abandoned him and felt guilty once again. Everything she had done had seemed fair and justified, including asking about his past. Yet, when put in perspective like that, she realized how much harder things were for Alcott. Just because he’d had a prior introduction to the insanity, that didn’t necessarily mean it was easier for him.

 
Antoine came back with the check in hand and her bag of food. She smiled and thanked him before placing the bill and his tip into the leather folder. At least Alcott would get to try some now.

  “I think it would be a good idea to meet up at my place.” Saying the words as if she were asking him to do something, not just telling him where they could go was a bit strange. “Lana will have music blasting, and maybe I can just buy a Bluetooth device tomorrow.” Her voice lowered slightly, “It feels insane to have to hold this up every time we need to communicate in public.”

  “I’d enjoy seeing something outside this area as well. I will accompany you when you go to the . . . do you have Best Buy’s out here?”

  She couldn’t help the laughter as she rose and picked up her food. “We do, though I was going to head to a Wal-Mart. I could grab some other useful things. I see you know more than I expected.”

  He waited for her to walk before following behind her. “The benefit of having been someone’s Guardian and spending nearly eight years in your world in some capacity prior is that I have had more than a basic introduction to getting along as a mere specter.”

  Any sign of the strange tension between them from earlier had completely vanished. He was simply the man she had read about in a book and had obviously developed a connection with.

  “Well then, guess that makes my job easier.” She gave him a playful wink.

  Without warning, she felt herself jerked backward, nearly slamming into the corner of the restaurant. With a growl, she rubbed the back of her head and turned to see what had happened, fully expecting to find some fictional creature attacking her again and more than slightly annoyed Alcott hadn’t intervened.

  Unfortunately, all she saw was a clearly drunk homeless man. His dark brown hair was tangled and long, some sections clinging together and others just completely unbrushed. The clothes he wore were the typical combination of whatever a vagrant person that resisted the help of Goodwill and the shelter could find. His face and hands were covered with dirt, and his hazel eyes were lit up, displaying the first sign of his intoxication. The smell of alcohol and lack of bathing reached her nose a moment after she looked at him, and she forced back a gag.

  “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Aren’t you a sexy little thing?” He pursed his lips and made kissing sounds at her.

  Disgust rolled through her, and she didn’t hesitate to defend herself. With a quick jab, she punched him in the nose, but did not hear a crack to indicate she’d broken it. She did, however, hear an angry snarl just before his disgusting hands wrapped around her shoulders. She pulled back enough to kick out and landed her foot in his stomach, but he didn’t let go.

  “Fuck!” Alcott cursed from beside her. “Fight him off, shout and get more attention. I cannot help protect you from things that aren’t from a fictional world. Nothing I do will affect him.” To demonstrate, he shot a ball of witch fire at the man. It did nothing, save for disappearing into the drunk’s chest.

  She could sense that people were beginning to watch and knew that it wouldn’t be too much longer before one of the street vendors got involved. Some might turn their back if they thought it was an issue between tourists, but most knew her and would likely rush in. Turning her body, she tried to slam her weight into him. Though it didn’t work, the small scuffle hadn’t gone unnoticed, and a cop strolled up to them. His eyes were set in a line.

  “Sir, either remove your hands from the lady, or I will remove them for you.” His voice was low, clearly trying not to draw any more onlookers.

  The man whipped his heard toward the cop, likely understanding his situation and removed his hands.

  “I think it might be a good idea if you came with me. Ma’am, I’d like you to come as well. Can’t let drunks get away with this.”

  She hated being involved with the law. One scrap as a teen had taught her how unpleasant jail cells could be. While the homeless man might appreciate the roof over his head, she wasn’t going to do anything.

  “It’s all right. I am fine, just a little shaken.”

  The cop narrowed his eyes at her. “If you are certain.”

  She tried to force a smile and nodded. “I am. There was no harm done.”

  “Let’s leave the nice lady alone then,” the cop said, doing his best to nudge the man away without physically engaging him.

  Kellie felt her heart rate slowing down. She’d had plenty of encounters with asshole men, but never during the middle of the day. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she slowly turned to face Alcott. The rage on his face caused her to gasp and step backward. His eyes were as good as on fire, and a small ball of witch fire glowed in his hands as if he had been going to try to harm the drunk again.

  That’s for you. A quite voice whispered in her mind. The incredibly sexy, powerful man was angry as hell over what had almost happened to her. She couldn’t stop the warm, happy feeling from swelling inside of her, even if she knew his reaction wasn’t the point.

  Desire to let him know everything was all right almost outweighed her desire to draw more attention to herself. With a quick nod to a few of the vendors to assure them she was okay, she began to speedily walk away from the scene, desperate to seek solace in a small shop on Royal where she could speak to him.

  “Kellie,” Alcott practically growled. “We need to go somewhere. Your fighting skills are lacking, and I will not sit back and watch as some lowlife seeks to touch you once more. You are young, beautiful and living in a city that thrives on booze. Take us somewhere where I can teach you how to defend yourself without being seen by others.”

  She wanted to argue with him, to tell him that she was in no more danger than anyone else and that he was merely overacting because he had been unable to help. Only she couldn’t. She had no formal training in self-defense, and if she was going to be attacked on a daily — or even a monthly — basis, she did need to know how to hold her own. Landing a punch and throwing a successful punch were too different things.

  She turned and continued to walk down Chartres, but instead of turning right at Royal, she continued to walk one street down to Bourbon. The noise from Pat O’Brien’s was a lure to her, calling to her to escape everything via a white plastic tub filled with the proprietor’s famous Hurricane. Instead, she turned left onto the busiest street in the Quarter.

  It was already filled with the loud clamor of the bars and solicitors trying to lure people into their establishments. As she walked, she could hear Alcott muttering and murmuring things to himself. Though she was unable to make them out, she had a fairly good feeling that he was ranting about her lack of skills and his inability to be what she’d needed — something she was beginning to think was his worst fear.

  Stopping in front of the deep blue banner and glass doors of the Royal Sonesta, she looked over her shoulder to confirm that he was still behind her. Putting her hand on the heated, gold metal door handle, she pushed inward and felt the cold blast of a/c mingled with the sticky sweat on her body. She shivered and stepped past the quaint coffee shop and delicately walked up the white marble steps to the overly ornate registration. She could see Alcott out of the corner of her eye, and it took restraint to not smile as he looked around him in awe.

  “I’d like a room please, just for the night.” She pulled open her bag, took out both her ID and credit card, and slid them toward the man.

  Paying attention to the transaction had been impossible as Alcott started to comment on the opulence around them and why she’d spend so much money on a room they likely couldn’t move around in. While it had been a more expensive option, she also knew that the walls were thick and a lot of bumping around wouldn’t be noticed due to the noise outside.

  Smiling, she took the room key and walked left from the registration desk to the elevators. Alcott silently followed behind her until the elevator doors closed.

  Chapter Eight

  The moment the elevator doors slid closed with a small chime, he turned to face Kellie, his hands darting
out to gently touch where the fucking derelict man had held onto her. “Are you alright? Are you positive nothing is wrong?” He continued to let his eyes roam over her, checking for any sign of bruising from the small tussle. It was perhaps the first time since he had met her that he’d been able to look at her without thinking sensual thoughts.

  The memory of the drunk grabbing her boiled in his veins. He’d been helpless as she’d tried to fend him off, and for just a moment, he hadn’t been on the street with her. Instead, he had been standing on one side of a strange wall while Ciara stood on another, telling him she was happy. Without thinking of anything, he’d fired off pointless rounds of witch fire and had almost made the ground shake before the policeman had come to Kellie’s rescue.

  It was utterly unacceptable.

  She put her hands around his wrists and lifted on her toes a bit so that she could look into his eyes as he continued to look her over. The warmth from her touch soothed some of the anger burning within him. When he saw the mix of pity and annoyance in her eyes, he nearly shoved her off. She had no reason to pity him. He wasn’t failing to do his job because it didn’t include real world threats yet.

  “I’m fine, Alcott. I just didn’t want to take my phone out again. I agree that if I had more self-defense skills I’d be safer in all areas of my life. However, I do not believe there is cause to panic and freak out over something small.”

  He had to clench his teeth to hold back some of his annoyance. “I simply want to make sure you’re prepared. I have no problem admitting that something very possessive in me did not like that man’s hands on you. I can also assure you that it would happen with any other man touching you, likely even women if I find out you have an interest in them.”

  She snorted at him and broke into laughter. It was not the reaction he’d been expecting, and when the doors opened, he almost forgot to follow her out. Her laughter drifted behind her as she walked down the hall to the left and opened a room door. It wasn’t until she closed it firmly behind her that she turned to him, tears glistening in her eyes from her strange amusement.